


When All's Left Is Rubble

by zkxxdlin



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break-Up/Broken Forever, Domestic, M/M, Past Infidelity, Post-Infidelity, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 16:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21461128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zkxxdlin/pseuds/zkxxdlin
Summary: When all's left is rubble, when all's left is nothing but dust and smoke and ash and pain, sometimes the best thing to do is to walk away.... Where Baekhyun tries and tries and tries, but all Chanyeol does is walk away.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol, Park Chanyeol/Original Character(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	When All's Left Is Rubble

_ He hadn’t known how painful it would be to see. _

_ He never— he never would have  _ imagined _ how much it would hurt. _

_ … and Chanyeol thinks… _

_ … Chanyeol  _ wishes, _ that he never did it in the first place. _

* * *

It started with skincare products.

They came in steadily, the pace unhurried, inconspicuous. Bottles of all shapes and sizes, sealed and packed in boxes the size of fists; tiny, small,  _ hidden. _ It all filtered into their house one by one, filling up the expanse of the once empty little shelf his husband kept at the right side of the vanity.

Chanyeol hadn’t noticed it at first, of course; with how unhurriedly the products came into their house and stacked on the shelf, with how small the bottles were and how unassuming they all looked, with how Baekhyun had meticulously kept the products away, never touching the shelf whenever Chanyeol was in the room.

But he noticed.

He noticed soon enough.

He noticed how Baekhyun took longer in the mornings to get ready for work, the routine that he had memorised changing. He noticed how Baekhyun would spend even longer at the vanity, a routine that used to last only three minutes and twelve seconds doubling. He noticed how his husband would become even more conscious, more aware of his face, his features; surgical masks becoming a staple in his bag and lips constantly shiny, the scent of vanilla distinct every time Baekhyun would press his lips to Chanyeol’s cheek as he bid him his goodbyes. He noticed how Baekhyun’s eyes would seem brighter,  _ bigger _ in the mornings, how his face would look more defined, shadowed in and highlighted in others; the dusting of pink and silver faint, the shading of black and beige minimal.

… and yet obvious.

… So, so,  _ so obvious. _

… and it hurt.

It  _ hurt. _

… because…

_ “A—Ah… It’s nothing, Yeol, don’t worry! It’s just— I’m going to be thirty soon, and Noona advised me to take a little more care of myself, so yeah! It’s really nothing!” _

…  _ because it was  _ his _ fault. _

_ “... I won’t be pretty forever, will I?” a laugh, strained in its happiness, tight in its secrets. “So this is just me trying to keep my prettiness intact~!” _

…

…

…

…  _ it was  _ him _ who made Baekhyun this way. _

* * *

Reason after reason, excuse after excuse.

The words pile in his head, layering over each other, the syllables meshing and letters blurry.

_ ‘I wasn’t thinking straight, Baek— I don’t— I don’t know what I was doing, I don’t know what I was thinking!’, ‘I couldn’t— I was being so stupid, Baekhyun, I don’t know why but all I know was that I was stupid!’,  _ and _ ‘I don’t know how I— I don’t know, Baek, please, I don’t know how I did that in the first place!’ _

… but they all carried one similarity.

Countless arguments, countless lines, countless  _ scripts _ prepared, and they all carried one, lone similarity.

One, lone,  _ lie. _

_ ... ‘I don’t know why’. _

…

…

…

… because he knows.

_ Park Chanyeol  _ knows _ why. _

He knows why he did it in the first place.

…

…

…

_ “... I—”, a hitch of breath, a swallow, “... I’ll try to be better, Yeol.” _

_ “... I’ll try to be a better husband for you.” _

…

…

…

…  _ because Baekhyun hadn’t been enough. _

* * *

Books had been the next thing Chanyeol noticed.

It had been a little tougher, but Baekhyun spending more time on his phone, eyes scanning the screen or plugging in his headset and quietly huddling himself in the corner of their couch… 

It was peculiar.

Peculiar enough to alert Chanyeol.

After all, Baekhyun wasn’t one to spend his free time on his phone. With his responsibilities and career choice, Chanyeol would see his husband hunched over his laptop in their shared office or constructing cut-outs with a rainbow splayed on their dining table.

Not on his phone and much less with his headset in.

_ ‘Is the preschool going digital?’ _

Assumptions were made, but never voiced. Guesses were made, but never checked.

** _Your invoice from Apple_ ** **** __  
_ Receipt _ _   
_ _ Scribd Membership (Automatic Monthly Renewal), $12.98 _

… E-books.

_ ‘Exactly What to Say: The Magic World for Influence and Impact - Phil M. Jones’ _

_ ‘How To Win Friends and Influence People - Dale Carnegie’ _

_ ‘The Confidence Course - Walter Anderson’ _

… and many more.

_ ‘Self-Management’, ‘Self-Improvement’. _

… and it hurt.

…

…

…

… It fucking  _ hurt. _

Because Chanyeol realises, he sees it, he witnesses it.

He sees how Baekhyun would pour over all these books, watches how he would curl up in the corner of the couch and their bed, his little notebook on his lap and pencil in hand, phone in the other. He watches how his husband would press and hold the screen, highlighting specific phrases before taking them down on his notebook, notes diligent, copious. He observes how Baekhyun would pause the audio, rewinding the clip over and over and over, eyebrows furrowed and eyes closed, focused.

… and he sees, he witnesses, he  _ realises _ just what Baekhyun is doing, what he  _ has _ been doing.

For Baekhyun’s  _ ‘Can you…?’s _ were long gone, replaced only by  _ ‘Do you mind…?’s. _ For Baekhyun’s  _ ‘Let’s go out today!’s  _ were nowhere to be found, replaced by  _ ‘Will today be a good time…?’s. _ For Baekhyun’s  _ ‘Oh… I’m not free today, though, maybe next week?’s _ changed, replaced only by  _ ‘Ah— Um, I think I can make some arrangements, so I’ll be free today!’s. _

… For Baekhyun  _ changed. _

_ “Oh— Well, Jongdae recommended this app and these books to read, and I’m learning quite a bit from them! At least now I’ve got something to do on Wednesdays, right?” _

… and Chanyeol knows it.

…  _ ‘Baekhyun is becoming a better husband. _

_ ‘... and he’s doing it for  _ me.’

…

…

…

_ ‘... He’s doing it for  _ me.’

* * *

He hadn’t locked his phone.

It was so amateur, that Chanyeol realises, that he  _ admits. _ It was such a rookie thing to do, as shameless as it is to coin it that way considering the circumstances.

** _KaKaoTalk_ ** _   
_ _ Dong-Hun (Kang Industries) sent a picture _

He had left his phone in the living room, having left to grab his laptop from his work bag one Saturday morning. With deadlines piling up and his phone a mess of text messages and voicemails and email reminders, Chanyeol hadn’t thought twice before leaving his phone; screen glaring with his calendar and dinging loudly with alerts, right there on the coffee table.

His husband had been cleaning; broom in one hand and pillows in the other, tidying up their apartment before they were scheduled to leave for lunch.

A date.

… and Baekhyun had been happy.

So very  _ happy. _

With his lips tilted along the corners, lifted up every so softly, ever so sweetly. With his cheeks stained and dusted, pinks painted along his apples. With his eyes glittering, the shine hiding behind the crescents and cherub. With his frame glowing, brimming with excitement and overflowing with anticipation.

… For it was their anniversary.

_ 14th of June. _

He noticed how they hadn’t been spending as much time together anymore. 

Baekhyun noticed how Chanyeol had been returning home much later during the nights, how his takeaway boxes would be emptied, the food stored in a tupperware container and placed neatly in the fridge. He noticed how Chanyeol would be receiving more calls from work, the dinging of his phone and alerts from his emails soon becoming white noise during mealtimes. He noticed how Chanyeol would sometimes come back with stains on his dress shirt, the colours varying but the scent telling.

_ “I already had dinner, Baek, you didn’t have to order for me.” _

_ “The company’s started on a new project and I was chosen to be the leader, and we’re now in the peak of it so I’ll be spending more time at the office.” _

_ “Please don’t wait up for me Baek, I’ll come home only around midnight. Please go to sleep first and we’ll see each other in the morning, okay?” _

Which was why Baekhyun had been more than happy, had been absolutely  _ ecstatic _ when Chanyeol had held him the previous night, arm around his waist and fingers playing with the hem of his pajama top, skirting across the warm skin. He was confused at first, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursed at the distant look in his husband’s eyes, how Chanyeol had his eyes lidded and lips parted, gaze unfocused yet focused.

_ “Let’s spend the day tomorrow, outside,” _ Chanyeol started, words faint but determined, longing. His eyes focused in on Baekhyun’s own, the glint bright and yet dim, and Baekhyun had found it weird then, found it funny how Chanyeol could manage to look so determined, so resolute, and yet at the same time carrying with him weights of hopeless hope, like as though—

_ “I haven’t been a good husband to you lately, Baek. We haven’t spent time together and that’s… I— I haven’t been prioritising you. I let my work take precedence, and I’ve neglected you. I haven’t been treating you right… and I haven’t been loving you right.” _

—… like as though it was his last chance.

** _KaKaoTalk_ ** _   
_ _ Dong-Hun (Kang Industries): This was you after I rode you just last week. I made you cum  _ ‘in a way my own husband has never’,  _ Chan. Are you sure you want to cut this off with me? _ _ 11:13 A.M. _

… and in a way…

…  _ It was his last chance. _

* * *

Cookbooks.

Magazines and books spread out over counters and islands, dog-eared and tagged. Pens and pencils would accompany the array, graphite scratched all over the pages and ink spilling onto the glossy sheets.

It had only been once, the only time that Chanyeol ever saw the sight. Baekhyun had been perched right on the bar stool, reading glasses sitting atop his nose and eyebrows furrowed as he flipped through the pages single-handedly, the other wrapped around a pencil and scratching graphite against white pages.

_ Recipes. _

Baekhyun was taking down  _ recipes. _

_ “... Oh,” downcast eyes, a slumping of shoulders, “... where did you eat?” _

_ A pause; hesitating, thinking,  _ scavenging.

_ “... A friend’s place. _

_ “He cooked for us.” _

… Baekhyun had never cooked before.

* * *

… The last straw came soon enough.

The one that broke Chanyeol’s back, the last weight that placed itself on his shoulders; the motion so light— soft, careful,  _ cautious—  _ and yet so forceful, so striking, and so heavy.

So very, very,  _ heavy. _

_ “Call me ‘Chan’ again, Baekhyun-ah. Call me ‘Chan’ again,  _ please.”

_ Widened eyes, gaping lips. Shock. _

_ A trembling frame, fisted palms. Restrain. _

_ … Crystalised cheeks, head bowed.  _

Pain.

_ “Y— Yeol, I— I—” _

_ “—Call me  _ ‘Chan’ again,  _ god damn it!” _

_ “I  _ can’t!”

_ Sobs, muffled into palms. Heaves, choked in throats. _

_ … and  _ pain,  _ buried in hearts. _

_ “... ‘Chan’ isn’t mine anymore, Yeol… _

_ “...  _ ‘Chan’ isn’t mine…”

… because ‘Chan’ didn’t belong to Baekhyun anymore.

… and Chanyeol—

_ — how could he live with that? _

* * *

He couldn’t take it.

It all came crashing down one night, moonlight casting grey on their tanned skin, the dampness crystallizing, their skin becoming silver. Breathing became increasingly difficult, muscles straining, the ache seeping in with each breath and with each whimper. Fingers skimmed along flesh, touch fleeting,  _ escaping. _

… eyes not meeting, and hearts hurting.

… for Baekhyun was riding him.

_ “Let me do the work today, Yeol,” a smile, a mask. “You’ve worked hard today, so let me do it.” _

Chanyeol would have taken the opportunity, would have grabbed the night by its dark and steal the light of the moon to finally,  _ finally,  _ give everything that he could, give everything that he  _ was _ to Baekhyun.

_ He would have given all of his love to Baekhyun. _

_ ‘... But how can I…?’ _

_ ‘I made you cum  _ ‘in a way my own husband has never’ _ ’ _

_ ‘... How can I give you my love…’ _

Determined brows, rapid swivels, frantic bounces.

_ Desperate. Desperate. Desperate. _

_ ‘... When I was the one who made you this way…?’ _

He lost weight.

His supple limbs had lost their chub, skin tightening around bone and muscle. His collarbones had become more prominent, the bones jutting along his shoulders, sloping ever so elegantly, ever so delicately along the shape. His tummy had gotten flatter, the skin pressing back against toned muscles and defined lines, the beginnings of abs trailing down the flesh. His thighs had gotten slimmer, the mass lighter and muscle softer, the limbs hollow to the touch.

He had on make-up.

His brows cleaned and filled, threaded and coloured. His lids dusted in shimmer, the gold faint but stark against his skin. His cheekbones highlighted, the pale silver glinting in the moonlight, the colour dazzling and sharp. His lips puckered and painted, the red light in its colour and soft in its impact.

He groomed himself.

His skin glazed with shea butter, the scent rich in the humid bedroom, wafting and enveloping the two in its warmth. His limbs so soft and so smooth, clean of faint black and irritated humps. His pelvic area clean and fresh, with only pale pinkened skin in sight.

… and Chanyeol…

_ “D— Do you f— feel good, Yeol…? _

_ “Are you— hah!— Are you feeling g— good…?” _

…  _ Chanyeol doesn’t deserve him. _

It slipped out.

Chanyeol had watched on as Baekhyun, as  _ his husband, _ tried so vehemently to keep it going, to keep him staying, to  _ keep Chanyeol in him. _ He watched on as Baekhyun bit his lip, head bowed and eyebrows furrowed as he focused all of his energy, all of his  _ everything  _ into heightening his pace. He watched on as Baekhyun sped up his swivels, hips circling about Chanyeol as moans began spilling past his lips, a falsetto in increasing octaves. He watched on as Baekhyun shook, frame trembling and limbs shaking as he clenched around his husband, muscles growing tighter and tighter the more Chanyeol grew softer and softer.

… and he watched as Baekhyun stilled—

_ Slap. _

—… mid-way through a bounce, mid-way through a moan, and mid-way through a clench.

… and he watched on.

… He watched on as Baekhyun broke yet again.

* * *

Shaking.

Baekhyun was shaking.

Chanyeol couldn’t see his face, couldn’t see the way his husband was biting down on his lip, couldn’t see how his teeth were digging and tearing into the soft flesh. He couldn’t see his eyes, couldn’t see the way his husband had closed them, the skin fluttering along his waterlines, couldn’t see the way they glistened under the light. He couldn’t see his chin, couldn’t see how the skin crumpled, how the skin trembled with each breath Baekhyun took in.

_ He couldn’t see. _

… but he could see other things.

He could see his shoulders, naked in the silver light, hunching up with each trembling breath his husband took in. He could see his arms, the limbs tensed and muscles tightened as he drew them back to himself, palms perched on his thighs and fingers digging into his flesh. He could see his hands, the skin growing paler with each second, Baekhyun tightening his fists and digging his nails into his flesh.

… he could see the hurt.

“... Am I—” a hitch of breath, before steady ones,  _ calming _ ones.

_ “... Am I still not enough Yeol…?” _

… and Chanyeol—

_ “... Am I not thin enough…? Am I not pretty enough…? _

_ “... What do I need to do to be enough for you _ , _ Chanyeol…?” _

—  _ Chanyeol felt his heart  _ break.

… because—

— because  _ how could Baekhyun say that? _

… how could Baekhyun, the same person who welcomed him back, who forgave him, who  _ still loved him  _ even after all that he has done, after all the hurt that he caused him…

…  _ after his husband loved someone else… _

…  _ how could Baekhyun still say that he wasn’t enough? _

Baekhyun was enough, he was  _ more _ than enough— God, Baekhyun was  _ perfect. _

It was—

_ “... I’m the one who isn’t good enough, Baek.” _

—  _ it was Chanyeol who wasn’t. _

* * *

It was with arms wrapped around shoulders and waists, palms splayed on the back of heads and fingers digging into damp flesh, that everything let out. With torsos pressed together, head buried in necks and noses buried in crowns did the release of months upon months of hurt take place.

Sobs wracked through frames, wails echoed about the walls, and cries tore into hearts.

These were the sounds, these were the heartbreaking, heart shattering symphonies that kept the couple company. These were the harmonies that carried with them the weight kept in their hearts, the pain in their souls, the begs and pleads for answers at their core. These were the melodies that played with them the opera of questions, unspoken and unanswered, the whispered reasonings, weak and nothing, and the muffled decisions,  _ “you deserve better”s _ and  _ “I’m not good enough for you”s. _

… and Chanyeol was right.

For Baekhyun deserved better.

His beautiful, strong, selfless and oh so loving,  _ oh so perfect _ husband deserved better.

He deserves someone who would spend time with him. Someone who will come home right after work ends to have dinner with him, keeping him company as he stuffs himself full—  _ “they make it just like how mom does!”.  _ Someone who will adjust their schedule and work around their responsibilities so that they can give him a five minute call, someone who bothers to check up on him as selflessly as he does for others—  _ “Hi Yeol, have you eaten your lunch? You told me you had a packed day today and I was worried you wouldn’t have time to eat, so I packed something for you… did you see it? It’s in the front compartment of your work bag.”.  _ Someone who will spend their free days with him, keeping aside special days to love and cherish and just  _ be there with him— “O—Oh… I guess I can cancel the reservation… You’re working too hard Yeol, you should relax a little! That’s my birthday wish for this year!” _

He deserves someone who would appreciate him. Someone who thinks about him just as much as he thinks about others. Someone who cares about him just as much as he cares about others. 

Someone who loves him just as much as he loves others.

_ A husband who loves him just as much as he loves his husband. _

… and Chanyeol…

…  _ Chanyeol isn’t that someone. _

“I’ve hurt you so much, Baek,” the words came out muffled, a struggling tongue curling around the syllables, the cries choking his throat warping the letters as Chanyeol buried his face into his husband’s hair. His arms wrapped around Baekhyun tighter, palm pressing down harder on his scalp and fingers digging into his skin, the grip as tight and determined, as  _ resolute _ as his resolve.

_ “I’m not good enough for you.” _

… and Chanyeol believed that.

For it was fact.

He was someone who had neglected his husband; someone who had flipped his phone over during business lunches when a text message notification popped up. He was someone who purposely held down on the side buttons whenever a call came in during friendly dinners, the  _ ‘My Baekhyun’s  _ going ignored— even blatantly declined the later into the night they got. He was someone who forgets about his husband, the thought of letting Baekhyun know that he wouldn’t be coming home for dinner a side note in his head, excuses of  _ “it’s fine, this isn’t the first time anyway”  _ chipping off the guilt, until it wasn’t there anymore.

He was someone who cancelled reservations and rescheduled dates, someone who prioritised business meetings and friendly clients over restaurants on their bucket lists and shared experiences. He was someone who got irritated whenever his phone wouldn’t stop ringing, the missed calls barely breaching past ‘2’, the rings never making it past the third one. He was someone who ignored his husband in the nights after passion with another, a bare  _ ‘goodnight’  _ leaving his lips before he turned away, covers over his head, and the care for his husband too.

He was someone who made love to someone else, when all Baekhyun had was Chanyeol in his heart.

_ “You deserve someone better than me, Baek, why can’t you see that?” _

* * *

It was guilt.

With its vines and thorns wrapping about his lungs, stabbing his heart, suffocating and tearing and strangling and ripping. With its immense mass, growing and spreading and weighing and  _ heavy, heavy, heavy,  _ pushing down on his lids every time he closed his eyes, on his chest every time he took a breath, on his shoulders every time he stood within vicinity of his husband. With its blaring reminders, the ringing of his phone as he thrusted into another, the cold containers stuffed into the back of their fridge, the muffled cries and soaked pillows as he mumbled another’s name in the dead of night.

It was the hurt he caused his husband.

… and Chanyeol...

_ “I’ve already forgiven you Chanyeol! What else do you need for you to start loving me again?!” _

…  _ Chanyeol can’t forgive himself. _

* * *

It was difficult.

Of course it was difficult.

_ When was letting go of your husband ever easy? _

_ “I can’t be that person, Baek, I can’t be the one who loves you right,”  _ Chanyeol remembers himself saying, voice breaking and words whispered. He had pulled away from Baekhyun then, their hug loosening, arms resting by their sides and hands clasped, fingers intertwined.

It was the first time their eyes met that night, situated on rumpled sheets and crumpled covers. It was the first time Chanyeol truly saw Baekhyun for what he is, for who he had become; eyes drinking in the sight his husband presented. 

The first time he truly saw how Baekhyun had dolled himself up; how his eyebrows were more defined, how his waterlines were coloured in, twin trails of black sweeping along the bottom lids. How his lips were more supple, soft and smooth at first glance, glistening in the faint light, how his cheeks were highlighted, shadowed and contoured, sharpened and defined.

… he looked beautiful.

… he looked beautiful even in tears.

For a split second, for just one moment, Chanyeol found himself breathless.

… because even in pain, even in hurt, even in betrayal and insecurity and self-doubt and  _ torture… _

_ … Baekhyun was beautiful. _

… and Chanyeol…

_ “I’m the one who isn’t good enough for you, Baek.” _

…  _ Chanyeol doesn’t deserve him. _

_ “... I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.” _

_ Chanyeol doesn’t deserve an angel. _

* * *

_ To: Baekhyun. _

_ You are an angel, and you deserve someone who will treat you as such. _

_ You deserve nothing but selfless love, the same love you shower everyone around you in. You deserve nothing but fearless empathy, the same one you have given to people undeserving of second chances. You deserve nothing but unconditional loyalty, the same one you have given to people who have betrayed your trust. _

_ You deserve someone who will love you selflessly. You deserve someone who is willing to understand, especially in situations where the only seemingly possible thing to do is to not. You deserve someone who will be fiercely loyal, keeping only you and you only in their hearts, in their minds, in their souls. _

_ You deserve someone who will treat you right. Someone who will love you right. _

_ You deserve someone better than me. _

_ You have given me the world, Baek. You have given me nothing but care, but concern, but love. You have given me your trust, you faith, and your promises.  _

_ You have given me you. _

_ … and although I cannot say the same for myself, please know that I will forever be thankful. I will forever be grateful for the years you have given me, for the love you have given me, for the happiness you have given me, and for the life you have given me. _

_ … but this is goodbye. _

_ I am sorry for hurting you, for making you feel like you weren’t enough. I am sorry for letting someone else in when it should have only been you in my heart, in my soul. I am sorry for bringing you pain when the only thing I promised you was happiness. _

_ I am sorry for not loving you right. _

_ Thank you for giving me happiness. Thank you for giving me care. Thank you for giving me life.  _

_ Thank you for letting me love you, thank you for letting me love you again. _

_ … and thank you for loving me. _

_ I love you Baekhyun. _

_ I will always love you. _

_ … but this is my goodbye. _

_ Chanyeol. _

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Firstly, as always, thank you so much for reading! I really am appreciative of how you have given this a chance and have read through to its end~ :) This story was quite a challenge to write for me because I did change up my writing style a little, and if I remember correctly this is my first time writing infidelity too! I focused more on implying and hinting as opposed to directly telling, so I hope it wasn't too difficult to understand! I am always open for constructive criticism, so if you see that there are holes that I can fill in / ways I can improve, please do share them down with me in the comments below! I want to get better and to improve, and would be greatly appreciative of any help offered! :)
> 
> I would also love to hear about your thoughts on this, especially on Baekhyun's decisions and efforts to improve himself for Chanyeol, and even Chanyeol's own feelings, thought process, and final decision as well! Please do leave them down in the comments below if you would like! :)
> 
> Anyway, that's about it for today~ Thank you once again for reading, and have a great week ahead! Till next week! :)


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